


Happy

by Ursula



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-01
Updated: 2005-03-01
Packaged: 2018-11-20 09:03:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ursula/pseuds/Ursula
Summary: A snippet for Lynda aka AqualegiaMulder wakes on  cold morning in England





	Happy

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Happy

### Happy

#### by Ursula

  


Title: Happy 

Author/Pseudonym: Ursula 

Fandom: X-Files 

Pairing: Mulder/Krycek 

Rating: Adult Slash Sexual Situations 

Disclaimers: No profit, fan fiction for fun 

Notes: Happy Birthday, Lynda 

Warnings: Slash, unbeta read snippet for Lynda's birthday. Lynda is a grand lady of Slash and the kind of fan I wish we all could be. 

I wake slowly. My face is cold, but my neck is warm from his breath on my neck. Inside our zipped together sleeping bags, our bodies entwine. He's not awake yet. I can't see much of him in the light that is slowly filtering into our pup tent, just the black of his hair near my face. His hand is splayed against my chest. I can't see it, but I feel it. His palm presses above my heart and I think that its placement is no accident. All my lover needs from the world is the sound of my heart beating, my body touching his. 

We could have gone anywhere, stayed in luxury, but one long night on a stakeout, back when he was Agent Krycek and I was his senior partner, I told him that one of the happiest times of my life was a summer spent hiking through England. It was after my first year at Oxford, before I met Phoebe and after I inherited some money from my maternal grandmother. Alyce was my favorite relative. She was unconventional, loving, and quite unlike anyone I ever knew. 

Her death devastated me. I felt as if my last ally on earth had been taken from me. However, when I received my bequest, I felt as if she hugged me from beyond. She told me to do something I had never done, to spend some of the money on something frivolous. 

Neither of my parents were happy when I announced that I was going to spend my summer and some of my inheritance, hiking around England, staying at youth hostels, and seeing the countryside up close. 

It was a summer full of firsts. First time that I spent any time without a schedule or structure. First time I was on my own, away from school, and free of any eyes that would see what I did and report to my parents. It was the first time I slept with a man, another student on summer break. It was not heart breaking. We weren't in love, but it was wonderful. My Timothy was experienced and he made my introduction to this kind of sex; tender, playful, and complete. He attended Regent College and so when the fall came around, we parted with kisses and promises, each returning to our colleges. 

I lost touch with Timothy over the years, but I thought of him from time to time. I didn't tell Alex about Timothy's role in my perfect summer that night on stakeout, but I told him later after Alex and I were lovers. 

Here we are. For the most part, we've been recreating my journey from the warmth of bed and breakfasts. February and March are not the months to camp outside in England, not by far. But, oh Alex, when he heard that Land's End was where I lost my last cherry, he insisted we camp there. 

Despite all the state of the art camping gear, I worried about Alex sleeping in a tent. After all, we are here for two reasons. One is that we are hiding, waiting for the rebels to be ready for our next move. The other is the reason why I worry. The rebels finally persuaded Alex to allow them to heal his arm. He didn't trust them before; he trusts no one except me in reality. The fear of being vulnerable to them, unconscious during the healing process, kept him from accepting the offer until I promised that I would be there throughout, that I would watch over him, and never leave his side. 

The arm was very weak and Alex struggled to relearn having two hands. He had adapted totally to having only the crudest sort of control over the appliances used to replace his left arm. 

His new arm was weak and lacking in muscle development. In using it, Alex sometimes lost control of his right arm as his brain struggled to understand his conflicting impulses. It resulted in times when it took him long moments to zip his pants or unbutton a shirt. He spilled countless cups of tea and accidentally shoved several meals onto the floor. 

I taught Alex to use his left hand by forbidding him to touch me with the right one. Motivation is all the key and, after all, I am a psychologist. He hurt me once or twice, squeezed my cock too hard and pinched my nipple painfully. I was a damn fine actor not to show him that he hurt me; Alex hates to see me in pain. There was too much hurt between us in the bitter past. 

The bitter has become sweet. The pain has vanished. So has the struggle with that arm. 

Yesterday Alex showed me proudly that he could disassemble his gun and clean it without using his right hand once. It was right before we climbed into our sleeping bags. He was nude at the time, naked dangerous man with a gun in hand. It was a vision I will never forget, his beautiful body, his even more lovely face outlined by the light of our camping lantern as he sat cross legged on the sleeping bags, showing me what he could do. 

Alex probably wondered why I made love to him so fiercely as soon as he put away that damn Glock of his. Perhaps he thought I was thinking of my first time here with Timothy. 

Hell no. Timothy was a ghost of memory. Alex was real. Alex was all. 

My lover's lips tasted of peaches and wine. We had shared a perfect and very expensive peach for dessert. Despite the rule about no alcoholic beverages, we drank to each other from a vintage that should have been served from crystal goblets, not from paper cups. It tasted just as fine though. Tasted better on Alex's lips. 

When I kissed Alex's hand, there was still a tang of gun oil. That's Alex too. I hope I won't get hard the next time I smell it again; my reputation for kink is already bad enough. 

We made love for hours and then slept entangled in each other's arms. 

And now we wake. His eyes slowly open and he looks at me. He smiles. He's happy. I am filled with joy. 

Soon, we will be back in the fray. I pray that we will win. I pray that Alex and I will have other times, free of fear and the anticipation of battles to come. 

I won't think further than this day, this perfect morning of our lives together. 

Today, we are alive, in love. That's a gift. The best gift of all. 

The end. 

Happy Birthday, Lynda   
  

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Ursula


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